


Rising to the Occasion

by fredbassett, Luka



Series: Stephen/Ryan series [51]
Category: Primeval
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 21:33:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fredbassett/pseuds/fredbassett, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luka/pseuds/Luka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lyle is drunk and Lester is at home on his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rising to the Occasion

"Hey, sweetie, how's it hanging?" Lyle sounded like the SF lads had celebrated well in the pub.

"Slightly to the right of centre, the way it normally does," replied Lester. "Do I take it you won't be gracing me with your presence tonight?" It was midnight already, and Lyle was due on shift at 7am, so the chances were that he would bed down in one of the bunk rooms at the ARC. But Lester felt it was important to keep up appearances and at least make an attempt to sound disapproving.

"I'm afraid not. How will you ever survive? But don't worry about me, I shall somehow survive a night surrounded by belching and farting soldiers." Lyle's doleful tone was only undermined by gales of laughter and ribald comments in the background.

“And that’ll be different in what way from the manner in which I normally spend my nights?”

"I'll have you know I'm the master of wit and repartee, and that on the rare occasion I break wind, it smells of roses…"

“Yes, darling, of course it does. By the same token, Cutter is the voice of sweet reason, Temple’s ramblings make perfect sense and Miss Maitland no doubt drowns kittens for a hobby. Excuse me a moment while I find something to suspend my disbelief from.”

"You could hang it from your prick," suggested Lyle helpfully.

Lester sighed theatrically. “I can think of better things to do with that part of my anatomy. But circumstances beyond my control appear to be preventing your participation in any relevant activities. Unless you want to be sleeping on the settee for the next week, how do you propose to remedy that, Lieutenant?”

"I could send the lovely Dr Hart round to keep you company. He seems to be full of beans at the moment…"

“And he’ll no doubt also be full of Captain Ryan’s cock in a short while, whilst I am doomed to languish alone and unfulfilled in an empty bed. A cold, empty bed, I might add.”

The sound from the other end of the phone was a high-pitched whining – Lyle's largely inaccurate impersonation of a violin – that was liable to upset the dogs in the neighbourhood, followed by a nauseatingly cheerful: "Poor diddums.”

“You’re so thoughtful, sweetie. However, the settee has your name on it, I can see it from here. I would also like to remind you that the insurance renewal on the Mercedes is due at the end of this week and I may also be forced to consider the withdrawal of your other privileges.”

"A man who drives a hard bargain… Let me see then. I could offer you a sneak preview of what you'll get once I'm home. How does that sound?"

“Tempting, Lieutenant Lyle, very tempting, but you’d better make it good. I’m a hard man to please at the moment.”

"Ooh, ducky, I love a hard man!" camped Lyle. "And I particularly love a hard man inside me…"

Lester grinned. “Yes, you do, don’t you? So, come on, Jon, what about that preview you were just offering me? Or are you too coy to get yourself off while you’re talking to me on the phone? I always said you were all talk …”

"Are you casting nasturtiums on my manhood? And you know me, I'm like the Milk Tray man – any time, any place, anywhere. So here will do just fine. You hang in there, sweetie, while I get my dick out for you…"

Lester closed his eyes for a moment, wondering – with mounting horror – whether Lyle was still on his way back to the ARC from the pub. He sincerely hoped not, but it was never wise to make assumptions where the hazel-eyed lieutenant was concerned. “Obliging as ever, darling,” he muttered, wondering quite where this was all going to end.

"We aim to please… Yeah, be with you in a minute, mate…” In the background, a door slammed. “Sorry, sweetie, that was Ditzy wanting to know where I was. Now, where were we?"

“We were about to indulge in a masturbatory fantasy. So kindly tell Lieutenant Owen to mind his own business.”

"He's too busy minding Ryan's at the moment after he reckons he caught the boss wanking in the van. Ditz'll never let him live it down. Speaking of which, I've got something here that isn't going to go down. Yeah, nice…" Lyle's voice took on a dreamy tone.

“Jon, I know I’m only playing into your hands by asking, but you are in one of the bunkrooms by yourself now, aren’t you? If you aren’t, I shall terminate this call and entertain myself to the backdrop of Chopin rather than your heavy breathing. And no, I won’t bail you out if you get arrested on a charge of outraging public decency.”

"So cynical and so untrusting…" Lyle sounded appropriately doleful. "Don't worry, sweetie, I'm all on my little lonesome, pining tragically for you and your prick. Are you pining for me as well? Do you wish I was stretched out on those expensive silk sheets of yours, legs in the air, playing with my hole and watching you get yourself ready to fuck my arse?"

Lester’s cock gave a very definite twitch. He slid the zip on his trousers down and slipped his hand inside, bringing it to rest on his rapidly-growing erection. “Nice image, darling. Stroke your cock. Tell me what it feels like.” For all Lyle’s jokey exterior it was actually a new departure for him to play games like this. The fact that he was more than half drunk probably had a lot to do with it, but then again, Lester had seen him like go from drunk to stone-cold sober in the space of a heartbeat when danger threatened, so maybe that wasn’t the whole story.

"Ah, so you do want to play with me, James? Bet you wish you were here, watching me stroke my cock. 'Cos it's hard. Very hard. Niiiiice… Yeah, it's so bloody good when I stroke it. Not as good as when I'm fucking your snarky mouth with it, but, yeah…" Lyle's breath hitched suddenly.

“Not so bloody fast, lover boy. Foreplay, remember? And no I’m not talking about something you do on a golf course.” Lester’s hand trailed lazily up and down his own cock. “Take it nice and slowly,” he murmured, watching a bead of pre-come forming. “Are you leaking yet, Jon? It doesn’t normally take long to get you to that stage, does it?”

There was a muffled laugh. "You know me too well, sweetie… Yeah, I'm stroking all that lovely moisture up and down my cock, getting it all nice and slick… And you know how hard I am? So hard that my prick'd be bouncing off my stomach once you started fucking me. And you do want to fuck me, don't you, James?"

Lester only just managed to suppress a groan. Oh yes, he definitely wanted to be fucking Lyle and his right hand made a very poor substitute for the feel of the soldier’s tight arse clenched around him. “The thought isn’t unattractive,” he acknowledged, doing his best to keep his tone light. “You always look good with your arse stretched around my cock. And you look even better when you’re well-shagged and my come’s dripping out of you. Have I told you that before, Lieutenant?” Time to up the ante, Lester decided, his thumb flicking over his slit, sending a jolt of pleasure dancing along his nerves.

Lyle's laugh was hoarse and ragged. "You've got a dirty mouth, James. I wonder what the others would think if they could hear you now. I'm sure the delicate Professor Cutter and the fragrant Miss Brown would be horrified. And I bet they'd love to know what else you use that smart mouth for… Yeah, I love it when you open me up with your tongue, and then clean me up after you've fucked me through the mattress."

“I disapprove of mess,” said Lester primly, struggling against the urge to tug harder on his cock. “And the first time I did that your face was a red as a smacked arse. Oh how times change, sweetie-pie. It takes more than that to get a blush out of you now, doesn’t it?"

"Oh, I'm a real man in every way," boasted Lyle. "And I bet you're all red in the face at the moment trying to stop yourself coming all over that nice leather sofa of yours. Am I making you all hot and bothered, sweetie?"

“Leather wipes clean,” Lester replied, in an attempt to distract himself from the thought of Lyle working his own cock with gun-calloused fingers. “But I will admit it’s getting a trifle warm in here. I may have to seriously consider divesting myself of some clothing.”

"Oh, I did that ages ago," announced Lyle airily. "You're getting slow in your old age, James. Me, I'm stretched out on the bed starkers with a hard-on that'd take your eye out."

“With the door locked, I hope,” said Lester dryly, jamming the phone between his ear and his shoulder while he slid his trousers and underwear down over his hips to pool on the floor.

"Hell, no! Much more fun if you might be disturbed. Anyway, all the lads are probably asleep except Ryan, and he'll be giving Hart hell for laughing like a drain earlier. Mmmmm, that's good… I've got my legs open now and I'm playing with my hole. You like watching me do that, don't you, James? Yeah, got one finger in… Feels so fucking tight. And a second… One day we're going to have to see if you can get your fist up my arse…"

Lester’s cock jumped at the thought. “Reckon you could take it, soldier boy?”

"Oh, I could take it! Question is, would you have the nerve to do it?"

The thought of watching his whole hand disappear into his lover’s body was enough to push Lester over the edge. He came over his rapidly-moving fingers with a ragged moan.

Lyle's laugh was low and filthy, signifying to Lester that he, too, had come. "I reckoned that might do the trick, sweetie. Hold that thought 'til I get home… You can fuck me open, then we'll see if you're all mouth and trousers."

“A challenge,” purred Lester. “Oh you can be sure I’ll rise to that particular occasion, darling,” he said, wiping his fingers on a crisp cotton handkerchief. “I do so love a challenge.”


End file.
